You know that feeling at the end of the day, when the anxiety of that-which-I-must-do falls away… That moment when you think, Oh God, what have I done with this day? And what am I doing with my life? And how must I change to avoid catastrophic end-of-life regrets?

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At the end of my life, I know I won’t be wishing I’d held more back, been less effusive, more often stood on ceremony, forgiven less, spent more days oblivious to the secret wishes and fears of the people around me.

—George Saunders

It was the quote that gobsmacked me in the quiet stillness of my screen porch this morning, right after I opened my email to check the daily dump, right after I opened the one newsletter that seems always worth my while when I take the moment to read it.

Even now as I pound out these words, I am questioning what I have done with this day, now nearly gone, even though I have read and reflected; loved on my dog; baked a loaf of bread; chopped an embarrassment of vegetables for the soup I’ll throw together in a little while for tonight and for the week ahead; scrubbed a bathroom; finished the laundry; and ridden my bicycle for a solid hour with the love of my life on an exquisite spring day in coastal North Carolina.

It can never be enough, there can never be enough time for everything, there is always urgency, there is rarely calm.

I’ve never ‘til now experienced the feverish work pace in my professional life that seems to define it. I first concluded I’ve been feeling pushed to my limits, but on reflection believe I’m merely being pushed outside my comfort zone. Some would say this condition is fertile for growth, and maybe that is true. Also I read somewhere recently that a better approach than feeling incapable of performing to new, higher expectations, is considering the person or people who set those new, higher bars knew what they were doing and believed you were fully capable, so maybe you’re better served believing in yourself.

What then? Push up one’s sleeves, embrace the challenge, and get to work, because the alternatives are far worse.

Then again, there is the irksome Peter Principle lurking in the shadows to bring on bouts of second-guessing oneself; good thing it was originally meant as satire and not the dog’s honest truth.

A few weeks ago my doctor furrowed her brow at the results of my semi-annual bloodwork. She looked at me—hard—and quipped, At this point, you’re right on track to have a coronary sometime in the next ten years, unless you make big lifestyle changes.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow for a non-smoker who’s also an athlete. But a wise person I know once said, best not to choke on that pill. There were three line items on the list; first two require some effort but I can manage.

The third one, though, is regarding my professional life, where I’ve struggled mightily with setting boundaries, with flipping off the light at the end of the day and stepping away. Another gift the pandemic bestowed upon us, I say. While I sat there talking about hard things with my doctor, she physically pried my cell phone from my grasp and started flipping through the settings. She held up the phone and said, See this? Focus time? Starting now, we’re going to establish some focus boundaries for you.

Boundaries to focus on what? on urgency, is the problem, and for the third weekend in a row I’ve run out of time to do some basic household bookkeeping, which is mine to do as surely as cleaning out the gutters is my beloved’s.

I get it. Unplug, focus on living life to its fullest and without regrets.

I don’t have answers right now, but leave you with a thoughtful enough poem by William Ellery Channing to situate at a spot on the near horizon as a beacon.

My Symphony

To live content with small means.

To seek elegance rather than luxury,

            and refinement rather than fashion.

To be worthy not respectable,

            and wealthy not rich.

To study hard, think quietly, talk gently,

            act frankly, to listen to stars, birds, babes,

            and sages with open heart, to bear all cheerfully,

            do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never.

In a word, to let the spiritual,

            unbidden and unconscious,

            grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony.